Crossroads
by M C Pehrson
Summary: "To Boldly Go", Story #6: While taking leave to consider his future, Spock meets a mysterious woman.


_For those of you who have read my Star Trek: Beyond series (it's original Trek, with no relation to the Beyond movie), this is the Alternate Trek version of "A Taking of Leave", with a very different outcome._

Spock had not expected Nyota to see him off the _Enterprise_. Outside of duty's demands, they had not spoken in over a month. On those rare occasions when their eyes met, the look of hurt on her lovely face made his heart behave so strangely that he tried to avoid her. Yet now, as the transporter beam settled around his civilian clothes, he glanced toward the doorway, seeking her in that final instant.

She was not there.

He materialized in New Florida's spaceport, on the Earthlike colony world of Ildarani. Stepping off the platform, he retrieved his luggage and presented himself at a Port Authority station for standard processing.

"Ah…Commander Spock," said the official. "Here for the treeclan research, eh? Welcome. Will you need a ride to the camp?"

Spock chose to walk, for it was not far and the day was pleasant. He would reach the research post well before any danger of darkness sent _bengati_ serpents prowling the treeclan. He was curious to see the so-called "Treeple" firsthand and attempt to meld with those unique beings of fibrous flesh. His ability as a touch telepath had won him this prized research slot, six weeks of working leave from the _Enterprise_ …and from Nyota. A strategic retreat in which to consider undertaking the stringent Kolinahr discipline, with its unshakable grounding in pure logic and release from emotional pain.

As Spock strode along the road, he thought of that other Spock on New Vulcan who seemed so much freer with his emotions, so much at ease. An alternate version of his own self—older, wiser—who had ventured beyond logic and grown very comfortable with his human half. Clearly that Spock had found his own path through life, while today's young Spock stood at a crossroads, both figuratively and now quite literally.

Drawn from his reverie, he stopped and studied the situation. Both roadways continued in the general direction of the treeclan, but there had been only one road on the map he committed to memory before beaming down. Unsure how to proceed, he set down his luggage and was linking his wrist phone to the planetary data feed when a woman spoke nearby.

"Are you lost?"

Spock turned. A young, fair-haired lady gazed at him intently through amber eyes. With only a slight hesitation he explained, "I am seeking the shortest route to the treeclan research camp."

"That road is on the left," she said. Studying his ears, she added, "You're Vulcan, aren't you? One of the survivors."

He had no wish to discuss the loss of his home world with this stranger. Picking up his luggage he said, "Thank you for the directions. I must be on my way."

To his chagrin, she fell into step beside him. As they were walking she asked, "Are you a botanist?"

"No," he replied.

"You're from Starfleet—I can tell by the haircut. What interest would Starfleet have in the Treeple?"

Spock came to a halt, and as he looked into her pleasant eyes, his momentary annoyance slipped away. After all, this was her world and he was the outsider. "I am not here on behalf of Starfleet," he disclosed, "nor am I a botanist. I have come because of my mental abilities as a Vulcan."

"The mind meld!" Her face lit with a comprehension and deep interest that made him take further notice of her beauty. "You'll try to talk to them; how wonderful! As a linguist, I appreciate the value of communication. If only we could learn their language."

 _A linguist? How coincidental._ Spock had left the _Enterprise_ to distance himself from a female linguist named Nyota, and already he had met another. In a part of his mind he began to calculate the odds. Aloud he said, "Not likely. Abori patibilis communicates on a near-subliminal level."

"Thought transference. So I've heard. Well then, you're the right man for the job. Nice meeting you, Starfleet, but I've got to go. I have a class."

"Are you a student?" Spock asked, genuinely curious.

She smiled. "No, I'm the instructor." Then turning, she hurried away.

oooo

It was at the Governor's Ball that Spock next saw her. He attended only out of a sense of political obligation. Everyone at the research camp had been invited by name, and it would not do for the sole member of Starfleet to decline without good reason. As he mingled with the Ildaran colonists, his attention was drawn time and time again to a slender young woman gliding over the dance floor. There was no mistaking that face. He watched her gracefully follow her partner's steps in perfect time with the music, her azure gown swaying. He watched her smile into the young man's eyes, saw his hand tighten possessively around her slim waist and draw her closer. Then the dance slowed and Spock turned from the scene, inexplicably hot in his civilian suit.

A male colleague passed beside him and murmured, "Best stay away from _that_ one."

Spock wondered at the advice. His gaze roamed back to the woman. In the midst of a whirling movement her face came around, eyes lifted, and they seemed to look directly into his. Her lips parted in a smile, teeth flashing white.

Abruptly Spock turned away and looked over at the buffet table, but he scarcely saw the food. With his mind in disarray, he started for the exit. Midway to the door, he lost his breath in an exotic drift of perfume. He seemed to tumble into rich amber eyes sparkling above a dress of blue, and stopped short.

"Spock," the woman said warmly. "I was told that's your name; is it true? How is the research coming along? Any interesting exchanges?"

Responding to the questions in order, he replied inelegantly, "Yes…quite well…and yes." Casting about for some way to shift the focus away from himself, he added, "I…do not know _your_ name."

"Of course," she said. "I should have introduced myself. I'm Adrianna."

"Lovely." Spock inwardly cringed at the sound of his own voice. Why had he offered such a foolish compliment? Yet he was glad that Adrianna seemed pleased by it. She was about to speak again when her dark-haired dance partner came up beside her, furiously seized Spock, and hurled him to the floor.

Spock experienced a jolt of outrage that sent him to his feet, prepared to fight. The human was more heavily muscled than Spock, but Spock had the distinct advantage of his Vulcan genes.

"Here now!" a man shouted. "Stop that!"

But it was too late. Spock had launched himself at his attacker and they fell together, pummeling one another.

"Please don't," Adrianna begged. "Stop it…stop it, please!"

Spock was atop the human, striking him hard. The music stopped. Several strong hands caught hold and dragged him to his feet. Spock glanced at Adrianna and met the soulful pleading in her eyes.

Her bleeding dance partner staggered up, raked him with a look of raw hatred, and uttered an expletive. Grabbing Adrianna's arm, he told her, "You're _my_ date! Come on, we're leaving!"

So this was not her husband. Spock watched the man's fingertips dig into her skin, saw her eyes narrow in response, and he did not like it. Very quietly he asked her, "Would you prefer to stay?"

Her face saddened and with a shake of her head she let herself be led away. Spock stared after them for a long while.

oooo

There was no sleep for Spock later at the encampment. Visions of Adrianna haunted the dark hours; hours as pressing as fingers on feminine skin, leaving their possessive mark; hours as black as hate-filled eyes. In his lifetime Spock had observed many human displays of emotion, but the intensity of her escort's jealousy was particularly disturbing, as was Spock's own reaction to it. He had been more than ready to fight the man. He had actually _wanted_ to.

In the misty hour before sunrise, he pulled on his clothes and quietly slipped past the row of bunkrooms, out the back door. He paused in the cool, damp air to fasten his coat, then slung his tricorder over his shoulder and strode into the fog-shrouded treeclan. The towering marvels were creatures of gentle intelligence and disposition. As he walked among them, Spock felt his tension ease into a peaceful fascination with these unique beings. Concealed by the fog, he wrapped his arms around a thick trunk and pressed his cheek to the shaggy pseudo-bark. She felt warm. The female exuded tranquility like a consoling mother—like Amanda—and in a bitter flash of memory he saw the Vulcan cliff collapsing beneath her as she fell to her death.

The Tree shrugged against Spock and he abruptly let go. After collecting his thoughts, he made a brief note of the incident in his tricorder and envisioned explaining the entry to his colleagues. He almost wished he could delete the notation or bury it in a thick report, but it was too important a finding and he was a scientist—a _Vulcan_ scientist. Perhaps it was time he remembered that. Sitting with his back against the gentle tree-creature, he focused his mind inward and tried to enter a meditative state.

…Long minutes passed; he should not have sensed them. The morning dampness cut through his clothes; he should not have felt it. More and more distractions sidled into his mind. _Trees. A great solemn crowd of Trees. Fog, moist and swirling about the ankles of a graceful young woman. The mists of dawn enfolded her like a soft white gown, delicately parting as she reached his side and knelt in the moss. Quietly she looked on, longing to touch him. With a slow, timid motion she reached for his hand. As their fingertips brushed, her amber eyes brightened with a mysterious intent that seemed to flow outward…_

Spock's eyelids snapped open. Caught in the act, the flesh and blood Adrianna drew back her fingers as if burnt. She started to rise, but Spock found himself saying, "No! Wait."

Hesitating, she glanced about miserably. "I…I shouldn't have touched you. I didn't mean to wake you up. It's only that I'd heard…"

 _Heard what?_ But her voice had trailed off. Spock was tempted to explain that he had not been sleeping, that in fact he had been thinking of her, apparently even sensing her approach. The warm pressure of her leg against his made it very difficult to think clearly.

At last he said, "That was…no ordinary touch. Are you telepathic?"

A slow blush spread over her features. "I don't think so. But it sometimes happens like that—not with thoughts, but feelings." The blush deepened. "I'm sorry about last night at the ball. _That_ sometimes happens, too."

Spock rose to his feet and Adrianna followed him up. He could not seem to distance himself from the young woman. Her hair, her skin, her eyes—everything about her was so golden and lovely that he found himself saying, "Well…you _are_ very beautiful."

A sweet smile spread over her face. "And _you_ are very kind."

In the next instant she caught him in a swift embrace. Then she turned and ran down the trail, leaving Spock's heart lurching wildly, his mind torn by conflicting impulses. _Call her back! No, I should not, I must not!_ His eyes lowered to his trembling fingers and he stared at them as if they belonged to someone else. What was happening to him? What manner of woman was she?

He began to sprint after her. As he rounded a bend, Adrianna came into view. Perhaps he distracted her as he called out her name. There was a snapping sound ahead and a broken branch sprayed yellow bloodsap over her clothing. They both froze as a deep undulating wail sounded from the injured Tree, an agonized cry taken up by the entire treeclan. Some detached, scientific corner of Spock's mind urged him to switch on his tricorder and capture the eerie phenomenon, but he had eyes only for Adrianna.

Above the noise she shouted, "Is what I heard true? Are you really a halfling?"

Spock felt a deathlike chill pass through him. What should it matter what this woman thought? Yet he was tempted to lie to her and say, _No, I am not a halfbreed—a mongrel. My blood is as pure as yours._ But he could not. Without another word, he left the scene.

oooo

Day after day at the encampment, Spock forced himself to carry on as if nothing extraordinary had happened. His face was bruised from the fight, but the pain went far deeper. He pretended not to hear the whispers behind his back. No outer controversy could compare to the turmoil within. Working in the treeclan kept him busy during the daylight hours, but nights were more difficult. While the research team slept, he lay on his bunk staring into the darkness, torn by memories of the strange, bitter confrontation in the woods. Adrianna's words had sunk into his heart like a knife. He could not seem to forget them—or her. The sense of discord only confirmed that people were better rid of all emotion. Those mind-fretting distractions robbed life of order and harmony. They had no positive value. They weakened. They destroyed. As haunting as tearful eyes, as alluring as smooth golden skin, they loomed ever larger in Spock's mind, defying even the soothing ritual of Vulcan meditation. For the first time in his life that inner sanctuary eluded him.

By week's end he was feeling the strain of constant restlessness and wakeful nights. One evening as he entered the dining room, the laughter of his fellow scientists died down. Uncomfortably aware of their glances, he filled his plate and sat apart. He was expecting some form of "practical joke" when the research leader rose and came over to him.

Quietly Mr. Gordon took a seat across the table and said, "There's something you need to know. It's about that Lemoine woman at the dance. The one you fought over."

He instantly had Spock's full attention. _Lemoine…of French extraction. Adrianna Lemoine. Had there ever been a more perfect name?_

Gordon leaned closer. "A year back one of her…gentleman friends…murdered her mother. She drives men crazy. It's in her blood. Have you ever heard of a Sy-jeera?"

Spock consulted his memory and discounted what he found there. "You are speaking of a legend."

"Am I? Spock, she's half Sy and she's setting her hooks in you. That guy you fought with? He was her _last_ love interest. Oh, maybe she doesn't do it deliberately, but heaven help any man who catches her eye."

 _Half_ Sy! All Gordon's other words paled in significance _. So she, too, was a halfling!_ He had mistaken her interest in his lineage for racial prejudice.

Rising abruptly, he left the dining room. Now that he knew Adrianna's surname, finding her address was a simple matter. That same night he walked the lamp-lit roads to the cottage on Burrow Street. Light streamed from its windows. Steeling himself, Spock climbed the stone steps to a porch enclosed by a vine-covered trellis. He knocked on the door. It cracked open, revealing a golden eye that widened in astonishment. The door swung aside and they faced one another. His eyes locked onto intoxicating pools of liquid amber. A jolt of desire surged through him and sent his heart racing out of control.

Scarcely breathing, he ventured a step nearer and said, "When last I saw you, I mistook your curiosity for prejudice. Yes. It _is_ true. I am a halfling."

Hesitantly Adrianna approached him and fingered the faded bruises on his face. Leaves stirred in an evening breeze that seemed to sweep Spock's concerns away. All at once he felt free of conflict and completely sure of himself. Placing his hand over hers, he softly spoke her name for the first time.

"Adrianna…"

Her lips parted as she gazed at him. "Can't we just start over…as if…as if…"

"As if we had just now met at the crossroads?"

She nodded, her eyes large and welcoming.

oooo

For a while the evening trysts at her home came daily. They talked, nothing more. Spock told her something of his background and the loss of his betrothed, T'Pring, during Vulcan's destruction. He never mentioned his mother's tragic death or his troubled relationship with Nyota Uhura. He never mentioned Kolinahr, for Adrianna had cleared all thought of that discipline from his mind.

One rainy night she told the story of her Sy blood. A fleet of Donari marauders had dropped down on Sydok where her parents were researching the language. Her father was killed, her mother captured and returned to Donari for use in breeding experiments. Adrianna was born of a forced union with an enslaved Sydok.

"Federation forces rescued her," she finished with a sob, "but now she's dead…murdered…just like my father."

Spock rose and looked aside, struggling for composure and granting her the privacy in which to regain hers. His mind filled with a nightmare image of Amanda falling as the transporter beam reached for her. Haltingly he revealed, "My mother also died…tragically…not so long ago."

He heard Adrianna leave her chair and come up behind him. Suddenly her arms slipped around his waist and she nestled against his shoulder. The unexpected contact sent her heartfelt emotions surging past his mental barriers. It was becoming more and more difficult to resist the urgent feelings she aroused. He had reached the point where he no longer wanted to resist. Turning, he drew her into an embrace and kissed her hair, her face, her mouth.

A knocking sound intruded. Spock glanced up and saw an indistinct face peering through a curtained window. "Never mind that," he said, reaching once more for the halfling. But Adrianna pulled free and opened the door.

Nyota Uhura stood in the porch light, her dark eyes flaming.

Still breathless with passion, Spock stared at her, uncomprehending. _Nyota here on Ildarani? How could that be? Had the Enterprise returned early?_

With fierce calm she told him, "Take your choice. Either come out here…or I'm coming in."

At that moment neither choice appealed to him, but he walked outside and shut the door. There was a strong temptation to throw Nyota bodily from the porch. His hands clenched at his sides, he said, "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same. I thought you came here to reflect, not party. Spock, have you taken leave of your senses? That woman is a Sy-jeera! Everyone knows."

" _That_ woman," he said bluntly, "means more to me than you ever did—you and your assertive ways and mercurial moods. I see now that you were always wrong for me. You and I have no future together."

"Moods?" Nyota shook her head in disbelief. "Look at yourself. One kiss from the golden halfling and you'd kill for her. _Spock!"_ Her arm moved suddenly and she slapped his face hard.

Enraged, he reached out and seized her by the shoulders. Did she know how near she was to death? Yet there she stood, poised and fearless in his grip, gazing at him sadly with her big dark eyes.

"Spock," she said softly.

He became aware of a luxuriant feeling under his fingers. Dhu-lapa wool. She was wearing a sweater he once gave her in defiance of Federation trade laws. Now, through the contact between them, he felt her courageous love working to calm his anger and cool the fever that had consumed him for days. Her hands rose and loosened his painfully tight grip. She touched his stinging face gently and clasping his hand, drew him from the porch.

"Come with me," she said, and he followed her as if in a daze.

oooo

"You were dreaming. Of her?"

Spock opened his eyes, tensing for an instant before memory connected. He lay in a strange bed with Nyota. She gazed down at him with concern, her dark hair smoothed back in her neat, customary style. His conscience began to stir and he admitted, "Yes. I was."

"She's a sickness," Nyota said, "but I have the cure."

Taking his hand, she placed his fingertips to her face in invitation, and Spock unashamedly joined her thoughts. For unmeasured time their minds mingled with such clarity and devotion that Spock wondered how he had ever yearned for another woman or considered the dry existence of Kolinahr. What would have become of him if Nyota had not followed him here? He would gladly have resigned from Starfleet to warm himself in Adrianna's flame. Even now, in the aftermath of the meld's pleasure, he felt the halfling call to him.

"Forget her," Nyota urged.

But it was not possible for a Vulcan to forget. Over and over he found his mind drifting to those seductive pools of amber.

"Spock, Spock…" A gentle, insistent voice called him back into Nyota's presence. Her hand tipped his chin and she bent down to kiss him. For a time he lost himself in the tender warmth of her love.

oooo

Spock returned to the research base at midday and was relieved that his disappearance had drawn little notice. The relaxed atmosphere at the camp contrasted sharply with the tight scheduling and discipline aboard a starship. There were no questions, only a few tasteless attempts at humor that came uncomfortably close to the truth.

He resumed his research with only halfhearted interest. Concentration was difficult and his work suffered as a result. All through the remaining days of his leave, he spent every free moment with Nyota. If she caught him staring into thin air, she would give his hand a squeeze that meant, _forget her._ It was during these days that he first spoke of his Time. Until now he had kept the shameful secret of pon farr hidden deep in a corner of his mind. Until the destruction of Vulcan, his betrothed had awaited him there—someone to whom he could turn if Nyota rejected him in that highly aroused state. Nyota had know of T'Pring, had known of the social mores pressuring him to complete the bonding, but she had not known of the biological pressure. Now, with T'Pring gone, there remained only Nyota…and the golden one with her intoxicating Sy charm.

Once more Spock forcibly rejected the thought of Adrianna. Though he and Nyota had never undergone a mind-linking ceremony, their bond ran quite deep. He had long known it was more than a dalliance, and in view of her courage, he was not surprised when she accepted the unpleasant facts of his Vulcan biology. But if his Time ever came, could _he_ accept what it would mean for her with all its animal brutality? Though he hoped that his human blood might spare him from its full effects, he would lose all control and burn with a lust more intense than any produced by Adrianna. Who but another Vulcan could endure that, forgive him that, and draw off his shame in the healing he would need afterward? Spock's thoughts turned to his Vulcan father and human mother. Somehow they had overcome the seventh year difficulties and made a success of their marriage.

With these thoughts Spock came to realize that he wanted Nyota for his permanent bondmate. Her response to pon farr was the deciding factor, for at that Time came abundant male fertility and she welcomed the possibility of a child— _his_ child, though it would mean taking a shore assignment.

And what of New Vulcan and the need to perpetuate his languishing species? Hadn't that other, older Spock stressed the need to follow his own path?

oooo

A gray dawn ushered in Spock's last day on Ildarani. The _Enterprise_ was returning for him and Nyota. Leaving her little apartment, he drove her rented groundcar to his research quarters and began to pack. A quiet rapping at the door interrupted him.

"Come in," he called out, expecting a colleague.

The door swung open and Adrianna Lemoine slipped into the bunkroom. Spock's heart gave a sickening lurch and the floor seemed to shift beneath him. Soundlessly she crossed the room and greeted him with a lover's kiss. Her touch brought a traitorous rush of pleasure. By sheer force of will, he pulled away. Her amber eyes gazed at him intensely, searching his heart, drawing him in deeply.

She said, "You've been avoiding me…and now I hear that you're going away."

"Yes," he admitted, his mind in disarray.

"With her."

"To my ship," he replied. "My leave is at an end."

"But you don't want to go. You want to stay here on Ildarani with me. I _feel_ it."

A sudden heat rolled up Spock's collar and he averted his face. There was no escaping this woman. She could sense his desire for her, even as he sensed hers.

Flushing with defiance, she urged, "Go ahead, Spock—deny it. Say you don't want me. You would have strangled her that day on the porch. Is that love? I was watching. I saw the murder in your eyes."

"If there was murder in my eyes," he quietly answered, "you put it there."

He felt her anger flaming as she cried, "Now you sound just like the others! _I_ made that man kill my mother. If that's true, then _you_ made that cliff crumble beneath your mother's feet."

Spock's shoulders slumped and his head bowed. How many times had he agonized over that cliff? If only he had kept her from the edge. If only he had beamed down to rescue his parents a few seconds sooner.

Adrianna touched his cheek gently and this time he did not pull away. Her arms went around him, inflaming a passion that made the breath catch in his throat. In flawless Vulcan she whispered, _"M'ra tu beru."_

 _Be thou with me!_ The lover's phrase set Spock's heart racing out of control. Clearly she knew its full intent. Beyond this moment nothing else seemed to matter…yet deep in his conscience there was a pleading. Then her mouth was on his, silencing even that inner voice.

oooo

"Welcome aboard, Commander. Lieutenant."

With a nod, Spock acknowledged the transporter chief's greeting before gathering his luggage from a locus. With Nyota, he headed into the corridor and walked to the nearest turbolift. They entered together.

"Deck five," Spock ordered. After changing into uniform, he would meet Captain Kirk for a briefing. Nyota, who had secreted a small pet aboard, would take her palomid to a friend in ship's quarantine for further screening. Eyes forward, he said, "The captain may not approve. After all, regulations only allow for plants of certain species."

He could feel her eyes on him as she said, "There are a lot of things the captain might not approve. Are you going to report me?"

He hesitated before replying, "I am not sure."

She huffed.

"If he asks me about the palomid," Spock elaborated, "I must answer honestly. So I suggest you keep the creature…well hidden."

At that Nyota laughed, kissed his cheek, and swiftly wiped away the lipstick. It seemed to Spock that he heard a warbling in her luggage. Then the lift doors sprang open and they went their separate ways.

Spock was glad to be home, in the familiar confines of the _Enterprise_. His mind felt clear, his emotions well-regulated. Back at the research camp, there had been a moment when this might all have been lost to him. But then he had opened his mind fully to Adrianna, showing her quite graphically that being a Vulcan male was more than a matter of pointed ears. And she had not liked it. The image of pon farr had so repulsed the halfling that she lost all interest in him right then and there.

Hands on her hips, she had eyed him with open contempt. "Why, you're nothing more than a filthy-minded beast!"

"Filthy?" he had interjected. "A Vulcan's mind deals in pure, uncompromising reality. Does that not appeal to you?"

Apparently not, for she had answered, "If you think for one instant that you'll come to _me_ in that state…and do _those_ kinds of things…etc…etc…"

And so it had ended—some might say badly, but Spock was pleased with the outcome and he was certain that Nyota would find the story amusing when he had time to share it. But for now, duty awaited him.

oooOOooo


End file.
